


Burden of Proof

by wakandan_wardog



Series: The Theory Of Magic [3]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Infinity War AU, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Past Christine Palmer/Stephen Strange - Freeform, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:31:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: Based on a prompt/headcanon from my dear rinn akaMaevee"I do have a tiny headcanon just of Christine meeting Tony and fangirling out a bit, like maybe while she's at work so she's struggling to be professional. Strange tells her he's dating Tony Stark and she doesn't believe him, so he brings her proof."I hope you enjoy, my dear!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rinnwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/gifts).



Sprawled back in his chair with a cup of tea in hand, Stephen idly rolls his head from shoulder to shoulder, attempting to work out a crick in his neck. He’d spent far too many hours hunched over a desk the last two weeks, pouring through ancient tomes that fill the Kamar-Taj library and the New York Sanctum. But without Tony around, there hasn’t been much of a reason to peel himself away from books. Still, if he skips out on his monthly coffee visit with Christine she’ll think he’s been killed by the latest earth-invading threat, and there’s no telling the lengths she’ll go to find out what’s become of him.

It’s easier to just put himself together and portal into the New York loft, greeting her with a nod, and sliding his offering of coffee beans across the table in response to her plate of fresh pastries. He sits and lifts a hand, calling forth a mug of his favorite tea and sipping at the steaming brew. “Morning, Dr. Palmer.”

Christine, for her part, is already settled in a plush armchair with her feet tucked under her, a mug of coffee balanced on her knee. She’s dressed down in a sweater and jeans, her scarf and coat draped over the arm of the couch. Compared to Stephen’s boots and breeches and the wrapped tunic, she looks more at home among the New York apartment than he does. Which is fair enough, she’s probably here more than he is. Splitting his time between Kamar-Taj and the New York Sanctum, he doesn’t have much cause to visit the loft.

“You look like hell, Dr. Strange.” She retorts playfully. “Not quite six rounds with the latest Earth-conquering mad man, but you’re not gorgeous.”

“It’s amazing that our relationship ended. “ He retorts blandly, lifting his head to quirk an eyebrow at her. “Truly. The way you cater to my ego is just so unique, dare I say, irreplaceable.”

“You don’t need me to cater to your ego, Dr. Strange.” She retorts. “You’ve had entirely too much of that, and you’re above it now.”

“Am I?” He wonders idly.

“You’re the Sorcerer Supreme, right? Most magical person on Earth.”

“Now I _know_ you’re mocking me.”

She is, she can’t help it. But he’s smiling, so clearly he doesn’t mind.

“So, tell me, Magic Man. What have you been up to?” Christine continues on as though he hasn’t spoken at all, smiling widely. “Saving the world again?”

“Research to save the world, not nearly as daunting as an actual fight.” Stephen sighs, sipping more at his tea and then setting it aside so he can tear a corner off a cheese danish.

“You look this rough after a research binge?” Christine gives him a disbelieving look. “You didn’t look this rough going through med school.”

“I wasn’t reading both sleeping and awake.” He mumbles, closing his eyes and stretching out a little more in an effort to ease the knots in his back. “But Tony was on a trip, two weeks… So, it’s better to get as much work as I can while he’s gone. He’s supposed to be back tomorrow, in Malibu, and promised me a weekend in California. I can stretch it to a week if there are no outright threats. I think I would enjoy a weekend in California, don’t you?”

“Tony.” She echoes, sounding doubtful.

“Mmmm.” Stephen remains sprawled back in his seat, arms stretched out, eyes closed.

“Stephen… Stephen? You’re not going to sleep during our standing coffee date. Who is Tony?”

“Don’t start that.” He grumbles, lifting one hand to rub at his temple. “I know you’ve seen the news.”

“Tony… Stark?” The mug is set down on the coffee table with a harsh clatter.

Surprised and a little alarmed, Stephen lifts his head and blinks at her. “Yes? Is there any other?”

In his pocket, his new cellphone gives a gentle buzz and he reaches for it without hesitation. The slim panel of polymer coated glass is edged in a gold-titanium alloy, lightly inscribed with lines that echo the characteristics of Stephen’s preferred shield technique, the Shield of the Seraphim. Tony had evidently memorized it after seeing it used in battle and later used it to inspire his custom creation of a cellphone.

When inactive it looked unassuming, a little glass window wrapped in metal. But in Stephen’s hand it had lit up, the display programmed in the soft orange light of his magic. The Sorcerer had beyond touched to receive it, recognizing Tony’s personal touches even if his lover had tried to pass it off as unimportant. _‘Just easier than waiting for you to open a portal, you know?’_

Stephen did know. Tony texted him daily, photos and tidbits of information or questions. It was adorable. There’s a new message now, a complaint about his business trip to Tokyo.

 **Tony:  
** _It’s midnight and I can’t sleep._

 **Tony:  
** _The bed’s too empty without you._

Stephen smiles at the screen and types back his reply, fond but firm.

 **Stephen:  
** _Try anyway, it’s good for you._

 **Stephen:  
** _I miss you too._

For a moment, Christine blinks at him in shock. “Ok, leaving aside the utter romantic sap that was that comment. What do you mean ‘yes’?”

“What romantic sap? What?” Stephen sits upright, blinking in bewilderment at her. “Christine, I don’t understand?”

Christine eyeballs the phone again, as if its presence offends her, and then levels a look that’s a blend of annoyance and disappointment –a Stephen Strange specialty glare- at him. “Uh, the _’is there any other’_ sap. Aside from that, I don’t believe you for a minute.”

“Hmm?” Stephen looks at her frown and returns it with one of his own, cradling his phone in his palm to ensure she’s not reading the exchange between him and his… well, Tony.

(Boyfriends seemed inadequate. And it was far too soon for beloved, wasn’t it?)

It was a token, a device of convenience, and a precious one at that. While most Stark tech and projections were offered in a very familiar, arc-reactor blue, Tony had coded the phone for Stephen himself. The fact that the inventor had included a projection color most similar to Stephen’s own energy when creating and using magical constructs made it all the more personal. The sentimentality in the gesture warmed him every time he had cause to glance at the device.

Which was fairly often, because Tony was highly prone to texts.

When Stephen looks up, there is a very judgemental look being sent his way. “What now?”

“I don’t believe you’re dating him.” Christine enunciates each word slowly.

“You don’t believe I’m dating Tony Stark.”

“Nope.” Christine’s doubtful expression stays in place.

He thinks about how the billionaire looks when Stephen dares to say that he loves him. “Okay… Why?”

“Because I was with you as the unfortunate date to one event that he happened to be at, and he complimented you on one of your recent cases, told you your tie was nice, and smirked. You were utterly useless for the rest of the evening and you obsessively checked the guest list for the next three events just on the off chance he might turn up again.”

_Ouch._

“You’re right I definitely went and bought myself an entirely custom, off-market, exclusive StarkPhone design with highly specified personal coding _just_ to try and convince you of the sham that is me dating Tony Stark,” Stephen replies evenly, wagging the phone in question with an arch of his eyebrow.

“Not good enough.” Christine leans forward, arms folded across her chest. “You’re going to have to prove it.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“You heard me. You have to prove it.”

“Are we looking at the same phone? Are we at the same table? And no, I don’t have to prove anything. You’re the one making declarative statements, the burden of proof falls to you.” Stephen replies, amusement rising as he locks the phone and sets it to the side.

“I’m making a negative declaration, there’s no proving a thing isn’t.” She retorts with a smirk over her latte. “You say it is so, Sorcerer. So prove it.”

Unbelievable.

 

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

When the dust settles after a bout with the supervillain of the month, Stephen Strange finds himself leaning against an upturned car in the heart of Times Square. He knows he should straighten up, should see if Wong’s alright after springing a spelled trap on the miscreant to bind him until proper authorities can arrive. Should see if any others have made it to the scene to assist, but his blood is rushing in his ears and he feels a little dizzy.

It’s probably due to this that he doesn’t recognize the soft whine of repulsors until Iron Man is landing in front of him. Still leaning, head drooping slightly, Stephen frowns at the pool of blood on the pavement at his feet and tries to make sense of the significant leap his heart gives. Right, he knows that sound. “… Tony?”

“Oh, baby.” Tony sighs, and suddenly there is a gentle hand under his chin, carefully lifting his head. “What did you do to yourself, hmm?”

The billionaire stands there in his new nano-tech enhanced suit, the helmet retracted and one gauntlet stowed away so he can cradle Stephen’s chin in his bare hand. In his boots they’re eye level, which would be an interesting dynamic to explore if the world wasn’t slowly tilting regardless of how hard Stephen tried to make it remain still.

The soft movement of his thumb along the Sorcerer’s jaw soothes them both, a familiar gesture among unsettling circumstances. Tony’s eyes are a somber mahogany as they sweep over his lover’s face, his plush mouth narrowing at the deep cuts in Stephen’s forehead and eyebrow. At the scarlet rush that paints one side of his face and drips down onto the road. He looks angry, but more than that he looks worried.

“ ‘didn’t.” Stephen mumbles, blinking against the weird surge of dizziness that the movement evokes and then focusing on Tony’s dark eyes to chase it away. “Second rate villain. ‘m fine. Took the hit so Wong could bag him.”

“You’re bleeding, sweetheart.” Tony murmurs. “You’re definitely going to need stitches.”

Something sparks in the back of Stephen’s mind, and he smiles. “That’s okay… I know a doctor.”

 

*

Dr. Christine Palmer is hunched over a desk and writing her way through a stack of charts when Iron Man, full armor sans helmet, pushes open the door. The billionaire looks worried but handsome, his hair fluffy and standing upright, the armor gleaming under the hospital lights. He doesn’t appear to be injured, just tense. At a loss, she stares at him wide eyed and slack jawed, pen hand held aloft.

Maybe she fell asleep and is dreaming? If she’s dreaming of Stephen’s imaginary boyfriend she’s going to read him the _riot act_ when she wakes up.

“Dr. Palmer?” Tony Stark asks in a brisk, professional tone.

“Yes?” Iron Man knows her name?

“I have Dr. Strange waiting in a med bay? He could use some stitches, if you’ve got the time.”

“… Right.” She stands slowly, following him back out the door in a bit of a daze. “Where?”

“This way, Doctor.” He murmurs and paces back the way he came, his steps in the arm ending with a metallic click but not nearly as loud and unwieldy as she thought the suit would be.

“Dr. Stark?” She mumbles, knowing the man has half a dozen degrees in fields she can’t even begin to understand. Courtesy goes a long way, after all. “If you might tell me what happened?”

“Stephen was wrestling the latest troublemaker who decided New York was a good place to be a supervillain.” Tony murmurs, continuing to wind his way through hospital staff. “Wong had a plan to bag him with minimal damage, but Stephen took a hit for it. He’s got some cuts that will need stitching, and he said you were the nearest steady set of hands.”

“I’m sure your hands are reasonably steady.” Christine points out as Stark hesitates by an offset door.

“Not when it comes to him.” He admits to her with a soft smile before pushing the door open. “Dr. Strange, you have some explaining to do.”

Stephen, for his part, sits on the bed with gauze pressed to his brow and forehead. “I what now?”

“You didn’t mention Dr. Palmer was beautiful.”

“I didn’t think of it.” Stephen mumbles.

“Please, like you could forget!” Tony argues, gesturing at Christine. “Honestly.”

“It’s not the sort of thing one tells their boyfriend when they ask where we can go to get stitches.” Stephen murmurs balefully, one blue eye a mere slit between the blood on his face and the gauze in his hand. “Christine.”

“Stephen.” She murmurs neutrally. “Iron Man was just telling me that our favorite Sorcerer sustained some damage. The perils of babysitting?”

“You’re hilarious, both of you.” He gripes while Tony laughs. “Stark, why are you still in that suit? Don’t tell me you stomped through the hospital like that?”

“How else do I get everyone to move out of my way and tell me what I need to know in order to find your beautiful Doctor In Shining Scrubs?” The billionaire mumbles, but as Christine prepares her work tray the suit withdraws, leaving Tony Stark in a very handsome pinstripe suit and shiny dress shoes.

Christine is fighting not to squeak at a very real, very handsome Tony Stark now standing in her workspace when Stephen seems to decide moving is a good idea. The Doctor-turned-Sorcerer lets his hand with the gauze fall to the bed, and she can see there are indeed several cuts in his face in need of cleaning and stitches. All fangirling tendencies flee as her professional fury returns and she snaps at him. “Strange, don’t you dare!”

Tony is infinitely closer, and steps up between Stephen’s knees to splay one hand over his chest. “Whoa there, Doctor Wizard.”

“Tony.” Stephen murmurs, swaying forward into the hold on his chest and turning his face into the palm that rises to cup his jaw. “Tony.”

“I’m right here.” Tony soothes, smiling when the Sorcerer presses a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry… we had plans.” Stephen mumbles.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” The billionaire’s tone drops to almost a whisper.

Stephen turns more firmly into the hand curling along his jaw, his empty hand rising to cover it and press it more firmly against his skin as his eyes drift closed. “You look beautiful.”

Christine bites her lip and stares at them, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

The smile Tony gives is the opposite of professional, soft and sweet and genuine enough that his eyes light up with it. “Thanks, honey… You stay still, now. Dr. Palmer will have you patched up in no time… Won’t you, Doc?”

Right, Doctor Palmer. That’s her. Christine stumbled forward, once again reminded of why she’s here. Of why _they’re_ here. “Oh… Yes, of course.”

Seems like proof enough to her.

Alright, so maybe she owes Strange breakfast… or a gift basket…

Then again, watching Stephen press kisses into his boyfriend’s palm, maybe she’ll just wait and throw the engagement party instead.

That seems like a decent apology. She’s certainly gotten her proof.

 

*


End file.
